You are not alone
by MelShep
Summary: Kate has spent the first few months of the outbreak hiding in an abandoned building. When she emerges into the new world, she's pretty sure she'll be dead within the week. Then she and her friend Michonne are given the opportunity to join a band of survivors, and Kate must learn to live with people again. Luckily for her, a certain crossbow wielding survivor is willing to help.
1. Chapter 1 - New neighbour

_Hi guys, I really hope you enjoy this first chapter of my new story. A couple of things you should know: I love The Walking Dead, but I don't want to retell the stories they've already told. So while I will use characters, places, and events from TWD, these will not always occur how and when you expect based on the TV show. For example, while my story is kind of set around season 3, Shane is still alive. Other characters who die in the series may live in my story, and some characters may not appear at all. So please read the story how it is, and try not to think too much about the timeline of the series, as it will start to be very confusing! _

_Any feedback is always appreciated, and I really look forward to seeing where this story goes. I hope you enjoy it! :) _

* * *

When I woke up that morning, I knew that something had changed. The air felt different, as if it was somehow heavier than it had been when I fell asleep. The silence, which I had become so accustomed to over the past few months, no longer felt safe and familiar. I had a feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Slowly, not wanting to make a sound, I sat up on the couch I had been sleeping on: trying to will my ears into hearing something, anything that might tell me why I felt so uneasy.

Nothing.

I had fallen asleep reading again: some trashy novel I found a few weeks ago on one of my forays into the other apartments on my floor. It wasn't the kind of book I would've read back when I had a normal life, but things were different now, and good literature was hard to come by. Besides, I supposed it would have other uses when I inevitably ran out of toilet paper. I put the book onto the floor, and climbed to my feet, padding across the thick carpet towards the door.

I leaned against the heavy wood and peered through the peephole. All seemed normal, yet I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. I reached for the crowbar propped against the wall, feeling a little better with the heavy metal in my hands. Slowly, and oh so quietly, I opened the door and stepped outside.

All seemed normal at first glance, and I crept further into the familiar hallway. I had become rather too familiar with it, in fact, over the past few months. I felt like I could describe every carpet stain, every scuff on the walls, and every chip in the skirting board, in great detail. It wasn't just the hallway, I was becoming more knowledgeable about the apartments of my absent neighbours too, since I had found the building supervisor's keys a few weeks ago. My own food supplies had run out, and the fact that everyone had left in such a hurry meant that most of the cupboards were relatively full.

I reached the end of the hallway, and was just starting to convince myself that everything was as it should be, when I realised it wasn't. I had rounded the corner towards the stairs, which I had blocked months ago by pushing a heavy bookcase in front of them. The Dead (what other word was there for those things?), were clearly uninterested in climbing the six flights of stairs to my floor, and so I had lived quietly, and alone, for months. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I had seen another person, living or dead.

But clearly that was about to change, the bookcase had toppled over, and a trail of blood led up the other set of stairs, the ones leading to the top floor of the building. I knew I had to follow it, I had to find out who, or what, was up there, but my legs were unwilling to move for at least five minutes. Finally, I mustered up all the courage I had and, gripping the crowbar tightly, I took the stairs to the seventh floor. The trail of blood led to apartment 25. I could see the door was ajar, and there were definite sounds of movement inside. I felt a lump in my throat, which failed to go away no matter how much I tried to swallow.

_What should I do? Go in? _

_What if it was one of the Dead? _

_What if it wasn't? _

_What if it was a living person, but they try to hurt me?_

_I could run._

The thought hit me like a train. Since moving the bookcase and sealing myself in here, I never once considered running: leaving the safety of my apartment building for the danger of the outside. I'd been safe up here for months, how long could I truly hope to last out there? I shook my head, no, I would have to go in and deal with whoever, or whatever, was in the apartment. Maybe it would be ok. Maybe they would be someone like me, someone who just wanted to stay safe.

I moved closer and very slowly opened the door. I considered calling out: if it was a regular person, it might be safer to announce my presence, but I couldn't risk it. On first glance the living room seemed empty, though there was a heavy smell of rotting meat in the air. I stepped carefully over a broken glass vase, noting that the trail of blood was much heavier now. The hairs on my arms were standing on end, but I told myself that was just because it was cold.

Then I saw them. Five creatures, kneeling down around a body in the kitchen. I felt a choke raising in my throat, but instinctively clasped a hand to my mouth to silence it. Whoever had been bleeding was now on the floor, and the five Dead were feeding on him hungrily. I felt faint, I had not been this close to those things in a long time. I knew I had to get out. I could lock this apartment before they heard me, move the bookcase back to stop any more coming up. Perhaps I could still be safe.

I backed away slowly, keeping my eyes fixed on the gorging creatures.

_Crack!_

I looked down to see a piece of the broken vase under my sneaker. I heard the Dead growling, and when I looked up they were already on their feet. I spun round, running from the room without looking back. I was halfway down the stairs when I realised I might've still had time to lock the door behind me. Not now. Instead I ran towards my apartment, narrowly avoiding a collision with two Dead women who were coming up the stairs.

I ran so fast my throat burned, but soon I was at my front door. I threw myself inside, slamming it closed behind me. I slid the lock into place just as the Dead arrived. They hammered against the heavy wood, but mercifully it held strong.

I stood with my back to the door, then allowed myself to slide to the ground. My heart seemed to show no sign of slowing. This was it. The world may have ended months ago, but this was the first time I had been well and truly fucked.

* * *

I wasn't sure how long I had been trapped in my apartment. I lost track of time because I began sleeping at odd hours. I knew it had been days since I encountered the Dead, yet every time I looked through the peephole they were still there. They had long since stopped hammering on the door, but looked as if they had no intention of doing anything other than shuffling around outside. I couldn't hope to survive a fight with them, or a drop from one of my windows, so until they moved on I had no way of getting out.

One morning, it must've been five or six days after being trapped, I realised I would not survive much longer. I had one small bottle of water, and no food. No one was coming to save me, so I had two choices: starve to death in safety, or attempt to fight my way out. In reality, the first option was the most appealing. Even if I somehow managed to kill or avoid the Dead in the hallway (and that was beyond doubtful), where would I even go? I had no idea what it was really like out there, were there even any living people left?

I shook my head, scoffing at the idea that I could be the only one who had managed to survive so far. Of course there would be people, there were always people. Soldiers in some army base, or Government officials in underground bunkers, or even armed rednecks out in the sticks. There would be survivors, people always found a way to stay alive. Sure, getting ripped apart and eaten wasn't exactly the way I planned on dying, but I would not allow myself to waste away to nothing trapped in this apartment I had come to hate. I would escape, and it would be today.

_Or maybe tomorrow. _

At that moment there was a sound from the hall outside. Not the normal shuffling and groaning I had started to become used to. No, these were small thuds, as though heavy objects were being dropped onto the thick carpet. Then a smash.

I grabbed my crowbar and ran to the peephole. No sign of the Dead. Was this my chance?

Without pausing to talk myself out of it, I flung open the door.

I didn't realise I was standing in a pool of blood until I felt it soak through my sneakers. I looked down, and saw the bodies of two of the Dead at my feet. Their heads were several feet away under the hall table.

_Who did this? _

The question was immediately answered when a woman walked purposefully out of one of the apartments down the hall, wiping the blade of what looked like a samurai sword on a rag. She was tall, dark skinned, and wore an expression of disbelief when she saw me.

"Hi," I said into the silence, embarrassingly aware of how strange that word sounded in the current situation.

The woman glanced around. "Are you alone in there?" She asked, pointing towards my apartment with her still dripping sword. I nodded.

"Good," she replied, striding purposefully towards me. I stepped back instinctively to let her inside, and realised that she was bleeding.

"It's not a bite," she said quickly. "I cut myself on some glass. You got a needle and thread?"

I grimaced, I knew where this was going, and despite the current climate I was still incredibly squeamish. But this woman needed help, so I simply nodded, and gestured for her to come inside.

* * *

"I'm Michonne," the woman said once she was sitting on the couch.

"Kate." My voice sounded strange, and I realised that I couldn't remember the last time I had spoken to another person. I was out of practice conversation-wise.

"Didn't know there was anyone alive in here," Michonne said, looking around the apartment.

"Just me," I replied, "Everyone left on the buses when the evacuation order came."

"But not you?" Michonne asked.

I shrugged, "I missed the bus. Probably for the best, I don't like crowds." Michonne gave a half smile.

It took me several minutes to find a sewing kit in one of my bedroom drawers, and then several more trying to work out when on earth I had ever decided to purchase it: I was not known for my haberdashery skills. In fact, the last time I had tried to sew on a button, I ended up stitching a shirt together. Then remembered what I was meant to be doing, and hurried back to Michonne. "Will this do?" I asked.

Michonne nodded, then lifted her shirt slightly to show the wound in her side. "Would you mind?" She asked. It wasn't that bad, but it must've been enough to make the colour drain from my face, because Michonne quickly added, "Maybe I'll do it."

I handed her the sewing kit gratefully, watching as she threaded a needle and then, as if she had done it a thousand times, began to stitch up the wound. I could only watch for a few seconds before I started to feel a little faint, and so I headed to the kitchen to see if I had anything at all to offer this woman. Then I remembered I didn't, but perhaps I could check the other apartments now they were clear "I'll get you something to eat," I said to Michonne. "I'll be right back."

* * *

When I returned I was surprised to see Michonne was already up and walking around the apartment. In fact, she was rifling through my kitchen drawers. She looked a little sheepish when she realised I was watching her. "Sorry," she replied. "It's a habit. I haven't seen another person for a while, and most houses I go into are empty."

"You live out there?" I asked, gesturing to the window and unable to hide the surprise in my voice.

"I move a lot," Michonne replied. "It's safer that way, but yeah."

Neither of us said anything for a few moments, it was clear that we weren't all that used to talking to other people. "You're good with that," I finally said, nodding at Michonne's sword.

Michonne shrugged. "It does the job, you have to go for the head. You know that, right?"

I nodded, even though I didn't know that, but I guessed it made sense. Michonne clearly wasn't buying it, however, because she continued. "Have you fought those things before?"

There wasn't much point lying. "Not really. Only one. I mostly ran on the first day, and I've been here ever since."

Michonne looked genuinely shocked, but she composed herself quickly. She looked around my living room again. "What are your plans now?" She asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Michonne continued, "Are you going to stay here?"

I considered this, what an odd question. "What other choice is there? I've got food, water, and it's safe again…Thanks for that by the way."

Michonne brushed off the thanks, "What about when the food runs out?"

I didn't want to think about that. Sure, the apartments had been pretty full of supplies, but they wouldn't last forever. I sighed, "I don't know," I replied honestly.

"You could come with me."

I blinked, I hadn't been expecting that. "Why?" I asked, before realising how rude it sounded.

"Well….I could teach you how to take care of yourself…" Michonne began.

"No, I mean, why would you want to?" I clarified. "I mean, I'll hardly be any help. I'll probably slow you down more than anything…"

Michonne smiled properly for the first time since I met her. It changed her face entirely, softening it, and making her look far more like the kind of person you would want to spend time with. "I guess it'll just be nice to have someone to talk to."

"You've clearly never had to spend any time in a car with me."

Michonne smiled again. She seemed like she genuinely just wanted some company, and I knew I'd be a hell of a lot safer with her than I would be if I tried to make it out there alone. But that didn't mean so much now that the building was safe again. I wondered if I should ask it I should ask for some time to think it over, yet found myself nodding immediately.

It wasn't like I had many other options, and besides that, it'd been months since the initial outbreak.

_How bad could it really be out there? _


	2. Chapter 2 - Room service

**Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter, I really hope you like the next one :).**

* * *

Michonne and I had been on the road for three weeks, and I had to admit, the woman knew how to survive in Post Apocolyptia. She seemed to hear the Dead long before I did, she knew where to find food that others had missed, or failing that, could catch a rabbit within a couple of hours of setting a snare. In fact, I was seriously starting to wonder what I was bringing to the table in this arrangement. If anything, I was doing exactly what I expected I'd do: slow Michonne down. She had saved my ass countless times when the Dead had caught up with us, and all I'd done so far was suggest sleeping in a building that turned out to be filled with the Dead, and start a number of awkwardly one-sided conversations.

Luckily for me, my lack of self-defence skills hadn't been too embarrassing this week, as we hadn't run into the Dead more than a couple of times. Alongside her knowledge of food gathering, Michonne also knew when to hunker down, when to travel on the road instead of through the woods (and vice versa), and when it was safe to build a fire.

Unfortunately for me, tonight was not one of those times, and so we found ourselves holed up in a freezing cold storage building on the outskirts of town. We had slipped in just before the rain started, but the hammering of it on the metal roof was enough to keep me wide awake.

I was sitting in the corner rubbing my arms, trying desperately to keep away the bite of cold. It wasn't working. I glanced over at Michonne, who was pouring over maps of the local towns on a small wooden table. Michonne never seemed to feel the cold. She also seemed to have this uncanny ability to sense what I was thinking, even without looking at me.

"You're cold." It was an observation rather than a question. She looked up from her maps at me, and I shrugged. "A little." I probably would've been more convincing if my teeth hadn't been chattering so much.

Michonne smiled. "You're the worst liar." She pulled a sweater out of her backpack and threw it to me. I put it on gratefully, and then moved over to her table, looking at the map she was examining. "The town here could be our best bet," Michonne muttered, pointing to a spot on the map.

I read the name of the town aloud. "Woodberry."

Michonne nodded, "Could have all kinds of stuff we need in there. We'll get moving at first light."

"Okay," I replied with a barely stifled yawn. I'd have to try and get some sleep tonight, rain or no rain. If we were going into a town we were sure to run into the Dead, and I'd need to save some energy for hiding behind Michonne while she did all the fighting.

I rolled my eyes at myself as I laid out my blanket on the dusty floor. Michonne sat down against the other wall, she usually fell asleep leaning against a wall or tree. I had no idea how she managed it. I rolled onto my side to talk to her. "Do you think we'll see many?" I asked.

Michonne shrugged, "Not sure. Haven't run into any on this road the past couple of days, but towns are always different." She looked over. "Don't worry, I'll keep us safe."

I felt my cheeks flush. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"For what?"

"I'm slowing you down, I feel bad you always having to protect me."

"Don't be sorry about that," Michonne replied.

"I'm not exactly pulling my weight," I continued, waving at my crowbar. "That thing may as well still have the price tag on it for all the use I've got out of it."

Michonne smiled, "I'll admit, you're not exactly battle hardened, but I like having you around."

"Why?"

Michonne paused for a moment. "It's like I said when we met, I didn't have anyone to talk to before. It's hard to stay human when you're on your own for so long."

I could certainly understand that, I'd been on my own all those months. Hadn't I forgotten what it was like just to have a conversation with someone? It was still difficult now, though luckily Michonne wasn't exactly a big talker. But she'd had it much harder than me, I'd been safe inside for all that time, but she'd been out here. How different would I be if I'd had to survive outside all this time?

_I'd be dead. _

* * *

We set off early the next morning, heading towards the town of Woodberry. I was both surprised and relieved to find we didn't encounter any of the Dead on the way. In fact, the route to town was surprisingly clear.

"It's so quiet around here," I whispered as we passed more abandoned cars. Though we were the only two on the road, it felt wrong to raise my voice any louder.

"I don't like it," Michonne replied, and I could see her eyes continuously sweeping the area for any sign of movement.

I knew what she meant, there was something about the absolute stillness that didn't feel right. We were on the outskirts of town now, and for an area as large as this it was so strange to find absolutely nothing. No Dead, no animals, just complete silence.

At that moment I was stopped in my tracks as Michonne held her arm out in front of me. She was staring at something, and I followed her gaze to the nearest streetlight. Hanging from it was a woman's body. She was naked, strung up from the neck with a single bullet hole through her head. But that wasn't her only wound, she was covered in cuts, bruises, and what looked like burn marks. I shuddered when I realised her nipples had been cut off. She wore a sign around her neck.

"Biters beware, we got bullets for all of you." I read the sign out loud. "Not exactly catchy." I could feel my voice wavering. "Do you think she was one of the…you know, when they did that?"

"I hope so," Michonne muttered. She looked around anxiously, but all was quiet on the road ahead.

"Who do you think did it?" I continued.

"I don't know, but it's not someone I want to meet," Michonne replied. "Let's keep moving."

We walked for another twenty minutes, and I was starting to think this town would have nothing for us. Most of the buildings we encountered were burned out, or completely picked clean. But I needn't have been so hasty, as soon Michonne stopped me for the second time that day. Before I could register what was happening, she had pulled me down behind a burned out car, pressing a finger to her lips.

I nodded, before carefully leaning around the side of the car, trying to get a clear view. "It's a wall!" I couldn't keep the surprise out of my voice. The centre of the town was surrounded by what looked to be a very recently constructed wall.

"There are people," I pointed to the nearest part of the wall. Four men stood on top of it: two talking to each other, the other two watching the road to the right of where we were sitting. At that moment a gate in the front of the wall opened up, and a car drove out. Michonne and I ducked out of sight as it rumbled past. I hadn't seen a working car in a long time, had they always been so loud?

When the vehicle had passed, we peeked at the wall again. How many people were there, safe behind that wall?

"We should go in," I began, before noticing the look on Michonne's face. "Shouldn't we?"

Michonne shook her head, "I don't like it."

"Why?"

She took a moment to answer. "I don't know, I just have a feeling."

I couldn't hide my surprise. "Michonne, they have walls, and people….and probably food and supplies…and guns!"

"There's something about it, it doesn't feel right. And that body…"

I shuddered, instinctively wrapping my arms around my chest. Dead or not, there was no excuse for that kind of brutality. Had that been carried out by the people living in Woodberry? If so, were they the kind of people we wanted to join?

I sighed, the relief I had felt when we found the wall disappearing as quickly as water down a drain. "Ok, let's go."

Michonne seemed to relax, and together we slipped out of sight before anyone knew we were there.

* * *

A couple of miles outside the town, night started to descend around us. "We'll walk a little further," Michonne muttered, glancing at the setting sun. I knew she wanted to get as far away from Woodberry as possible before finding a place to sleep.

"Help!"

I spun round, and behind us stood a thin, bedraggled woman. It took me a moment to register that she wasn't infected. Her brown hair hung in knots around her shoulders, and her clothes were spattered with a mixture of mud, blood, and God knows what else. She looked as though she hadn't eaten in days, and her skin was bruised and scarred. "Help me," she repeated, and I saw out of the corner of my eye that Michonne had instinctively reached for her sword. The woman's eyes widened. "No, please, I just want help. It's my baby, there's something wrong with my baby, my little Sam."

Michonne only took a couple of seconds to consider this, before quickly returning her sword to the harness on her back. "Where?" She asked, moving closer to the woman.

"In there," the woman replied, pointing to a small building behind her. "Please, follow me." She turned and ran for the building, and all Michonne and I could do was follow. She was running fast, and I was out of breath by the time we reached the entrance to an old fashioned bed and breakfast.

The three of us stepped inside, the only sound coming from the dusty floorboards beneath our feet, and the blood beating in my ears.

"Where is he?" Michonne asked. The woman didn't answer, instead hurrying to a room at the end of the hall. Michonne glanced at me, but quickly followed before I could tell her what I was thinking. Something wasn't right.

I followed Michonne and found myself standing in a large living area. There were a number of couches lining the walls, several bookcases, and an old piano. The woman was standing with her back to us, looking into a box which sat on one of the couches at the other end of the room.

"Where is he?" Michonne repeated.

"Right here."

I felt my stomach drop at the sound of the voice behind us. The woman turned around to face us, a smirk spreading across her face. I could hear the sound of several people moving behind me. I glanced at Michonne. She didn't look worried. She looked furious. She reached for her sword quickly, but not quickly enough. I watched helplessly as a man grabbed her wrist firmly. "I don't think so," he grunted, using his free hand to snatch the sword. At the same moment another man grabbed my crowbar and threw it to the side, then pulled my hands tightly behind my back. Two men stepped out in front of us.

"Nice work," one of them said to the woman, who continued to smirk. "How's your baby?" He asked, grinning.

The woman pulled a grotty doll out of the box behind her, looking at it with mock concern. "I don't think he made it," she said in a girly voice, before laughing and throwing the doll at Michonne.

The man turned to face us, holding Michonne's sword. "Where'd you get this?" He asked casually, holding it with both hands and swiping it through the air a couple of times. Michonne said nothing. He stopped what he was doing. "I said, where did you get this?" I could tell he didn't really care, he just wanted to hear her talk.

The woman, however, seemed more irritated. "He asked you a question," she spat, slapping Michonne hard in the face. Michonne didn't even flinch, and continued to stare in stony silence. The woman looked furious, but the man just laughed. "Not a talker?" He asked. "That's fine, it makes the next part easier if you're not begging."

My stomach dropped. I watched as he nodded at the men behind Michonne and I, and we were both pushed roughly to the ground. Michonne was stronger than me, and it took them longer to get her on her knees.

"I want that one," the man said, pointing the sword at Michonne. "Mare needs breaking." He moved over, taking the place of the one who was holding Michonne down.

A thousand thoughts were running through my head. _I could scream, I could fight, I could play dead, I could run, I could let them do whatever they want to do and maybe they'll let me go, I could bite his tongue off. _None of those ideas were particularly helpful, but before I had a chance to think of anything else, everything changed. Suddenly Michonne head-butted the man holding on to her in the chin, causing him to fall backwards. She stood up and kicked him quickly in the groin, grabbing her sword in the process. The man holding on to me loosened his grip, and I managed to shake myself free before he realised what had happened. I was out of the way just in time to watch Michonne separate her captor from his head.

Michonne grabbed me, pulling my behind her. Two more men moved closer, one had an axe, the other holding my crowbar. Unfortunately for them, Michonne was faster, and they both found themselves on the floor drowning in their own blood. I reached for my crowbar.

_BANG!_

I froze. It was so loud I was sure it had been a bomb, not a bullet.

But it was a bullet, and it was in Michonne's leg. I watched my friend stumble, and I was there just in time to steady her before she fell. The woman moved closer, seeing her chance, but Michonne still had enough energy to cut her hand off. She fell back, and the man with the gun ran to help her. I took the opportunity to drag Michonne, who was barely standing, out of the room. We were heading down the hall towards the front door, when I saw it creak open. More people were coming in!

"Fuck!" I breathed, pulling Michonne towards the staircase.

"Can you do it?" I asked breathlessly.

She nodded, and I helped her up the stairs. We had just arrived on the second floor when I heard a man call out: "Bitch! Where are you? I'll cut out your eyes bitch!"

I could barely see, it was getting so dark. I pulled Michonne into the nearest room, pushing her under the bed.

_Should I run out of the room? I could distract him. _

No, I could hear him on the stairs, it was too late. I grabbed Michonne's sword from the bed and ran to the door, wondering how long I could hold it closed. Then I heard another gunshot.

_Who is he shooting? _

Another shot, then the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. I was frozen on the spot…Right up until I saw the door handle turn. I grabbed it, trying to hold it in place, but it was no good, whoever was on the other side was stronger than I was, and the door swung open.

Standing in the doorway was a different man. He was tall, broad, with thick black hair. He looked at me with an eyebrow raised, and slowly lowered the shotgun he had been aiming at my face. We stared at each other in silence for a few moments, before he asked: "You with him?"

He kicked his foot against a body on the floor. I looked down, realised it was the man who had shot Michonne. I shook my head.

The man didn't look too sure. "Why you here?" He asked.

I nodded at the body on the floor. "Hiding," I began, "He was trying to kill us."

"Us?" The man seemed to notice the blood on my hands for the first time, and looked around the room. He must've caught sight of Michonne under the bed, because he came further into the room. I stepped in front of him, blocking his eye line. I didn't want him looking at Michonne, didn't want him knowing how badly she was hurt. Not until I knew who he was and what he wanted.

He seemed to understand, and leaned his shotgun against the wall, holding up his hands. "I'm Shane," he said gently.

I didn't reply. What did he want? Was he looking to finish what the other ones had started? Or was he a good guy? Were there any of those left?

I could hear movement in the hallway, and instinctively gripped the sword more tightly. Shane noticed this, and I thought I saw the flicker of a smile cross his face, though he said nothing.

"Shane?" Came another man's voice. "Are we clear?"

"Got a couple of live ones," Shane replied, still gently. It was as if I was a deer, and he was frightened of scaring me off. Soon another man appeared in the doorway, the first thing I noticed were his clothes. He was dressed like a cop. I immediately felt safer, then shook that feeling away.

_He could've killed a cop. _

"Hi," the second man began. He looked at me, then at Michonne, then the sword. He had a kind voice, but I wouldn't let my guard down, and he must've realised this. He kept eye contact with me when he next spoke. "I need to know if you're planning on using that. We're not here to hurt you, I'd like you to offer us the same curtesy." I lowered the sword, but didn't let go.

"Thank you," said the cop. "I'm Rick, this is Shane."

"…Kate." My voice sounded strange. It sounded tired, but strong, untrusting.

"Who's your friend?" Shane asked, pointing to Michonne. I turned, Michonne looked drowsy, but she was still conscious. I looked back at the men. I wanted to trust them. "Her name's Michonne."

"Something happened to Michonne?" The one called Rick asked.

"She was shot."

The two men looked at each other, both of them seeming to talk without actually speaking. Then Rick stepped closer to me, very slowly. "You should come with us," he began gently. "We have a Doctor…kind of, he could help your friend."

I glanced at Michonne, I couldn't make this decision without her, but she didn't look like she even knew where she was.

"Look, we're not like those guys," Shane said, running his hand through his hair. "We can help you."

"You don't have to come with us," Rick continued, "But honestly, I don't much rate her chances if you don't."

_They could be tricking you. _

_Michonne needs help._

_She could die with them._

_She'll die here. _

I didn't really have a choice, at least this way there was a chance I could help Michonne. Maybe for once I could watch her back?

I took a deep breath. "Okay."

As I watched the men carrying Michonne to the car I prayed this wasn't the biggest mistake of my life.


	3. Chapter 3 - A walk in the woods

**Hey guys, I hope you enjoy this next chapter. It's a bit of a quiet one, but there's lots of Walker action coming up in the next one :) **

* * *

I was in a car for the first time in months. Strange how you can go so long without doing something, yet it still feel completely normal.

Michonne was lying on the back seat with her head in my lap. Her eyes were closed, but I could feel her breathing so I wasn't panicking just yet. Her leg had been bandaged, and the wound didn't look too bad.

Shane and Rick were in the front with Shane driving. There was also another guy I hadn't been introduced to yet, but he was riding a motorbike up ahead.

They were taking us back to their camp, where they said a man named Hershel would help Michonne. I didn't want to ask what would happen after that. Would we be allowed to stay? Would we want to? They seemed friendly enough right now, but that could change. What if there were no other women in their group? They may not have seemed the type, but I couldn't shake the idea that Michonne and I might be passed around like a packet of cigarettes.

Rick turned around in the front seat, and I sensed something heavy was heading my way.

"Before we get back to our camp," he began. "I need to ask you some questions. I would've done it back there, but I thought it would be better for your friend if we got on the road as soon as possible."

I nodded gratefully. Rick continued. "I need you to answer honestly. I'll know if you're lying."

_You definitely will, I'm a terrible liar. _

I felt beads of sweat building on my forehead, but I resisted the urge to wipe my brow. I didn't want to risk looking suspicious before he'd even asked the first question!

"How many Walkers have you killed?"

_Walkers? That's new, makes sense though._

"One."

"How many people have you killed?"

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise, was that supposed to be a trick question? "…None."

"Why?"

"Why?" I repeated. "Because…..because… I wouldn't, and because I haven't needed to, and…because I probably couldn't."

Neither Rick nor Shane said anything, so I felt compelled to continue. "I'm not strong like her," I nodded to Michonne, still unconscious. "I ran on the first day and I was alone for months. When I left my apartment Michonne looked after me. I haven't killed a…Walker, since the first day, and I've never had to kill another living person."

"Ok." Rick replied, and I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was satisfied. He'd let me stay.

"What would you have said if I'd killed people?" I asked.

"Depends on your reason," Rick replied, and just like that I knew he had killed. Probably hundreds of Walkers, but how many people?

"What about her?" Shane asked.

I looked at Michonne. "I don't know her numbers," I began. "But she always had reasons. She's good."

That seemed good enough for Rick, at least for now, so he turned back to the front and began talking into a police radio, letting whoever was back at their camp know we were headed their way.

* * *

We were taken to a farm in the middle of nowhere, where Michonne was rushed into a farm house by a white haired man and a woman I assumed was his wife. Three days passed, and Michonne had been in the bedroom upstairs, sleeping, the whole time. The doctor (the one named Hershel) told me she was going to be fine. The fact that she hadn't woken up yet worried me though. Either she was just exhausted from our time on the road, or her injuries were more severe than I had been led to believe.

There wasn't room for me to sleep in the house too, so I had been given my own tent outside. I preferred it that way, there were a lot of people here, and I wasn't ready to be thrown into the mix just yet. As it was, I'd kept as much to myself as I possibly could, though I had invariably learned a few things about the people on the farm.

There was Rick, who used to be a cop before all of this happened. He was here with his wife Lori and his son Carl. Lori was pregnant. I didn't envy her that.

Then there was Shane, who also used to be a cop, though from the way he looked up to Rick I could tell he came from lower in the ranks. There was Hershel and a woman named Patricia who followed him everywhere, and Hershel's daughters Maggie and Beth. Maggie was with a guy called Glenn, but I got the sense that was a relatively new thing. Beth was seeing a guy called Jimmy, but I didn't know much about him. Then there was an old guy called Dale, and a woman called Carol. Carol had lost her daughter recently. Apparently they'd been looking for her for a long time. Carol was like me, she seemed to keep to herself. There was also a guy called Daryl, he'd been the one on the motorbike when Rick and Shane found us. I didn't know too much about him, he never seemed to be around. There was also another guy who they all called T Dog. I didn't know what his real name was.

Too many names, too many faces, it felt unnatural to see so many people together after being alone for so long. The others seemed to understand I needed space, so had pretty much left me to my own devices. Today I'd left the safety of the farm, and found myself in the nearby woods. Rick had assured me that these were relatively quiet, but I'd taken my crowbar anyway. He seemed to understand my desire to get away. I just needed a break from all the people, all the movement.

I'd always liked being in the woods. My parents used to take me when I was a kid. We'd walk for hours, not caring if we got lost. Things were different now though, and I made sure to stay within sight of the edge of the tree line. The last thing I needed was to get lost.

* * *

The midday sun was hot, and I stopped under a tree to have a drink. Up ahead, a little further into the woods was a clearing, and I watched as a lone deer stepped out. It paused, sniffing the air for a few moments before grazing. Slowly I stood up, moving carefully towards the clearing. I couldn't help myself, it had been so long since I'd seen anything that beautiful, that innocent. Suddenly the deer looked up, looked right into my eyes.

Then it was on the floor.

I gasped, running over to the creature. What had happened?

It had an arrow through its neck. It was already dead.

_Who?_

My question was answered when the man I recognised as Daryl stepped into the clearing.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, my hands on the still-warm neck of the deer.

He looked a little confused. "You a vegetarian?"

_Oh. Right. We need food. It's not like there's a 7-11 open round the corner. _

"No." I replied with a sigh.

"Good, then you can help me carry it."

I looked back at the deer, blood was starting to escape the wound.

"I don't think so…"

Daryl reached over, retrieving the arrow and causing more blood to escape from the beautiful beast. "Why not?" He asked. He had a rough, gravelly voice, and I got the feeling he wouldn't think much of my answer.

"I…I'm not good with blood." _God that sounded pathetic. _

From the look on his face, I could tell he certainly thought it was pathetic. But he said nothing.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged.

_What are you doing? You want these people to like you don't you? They won't accept you, or Michonne, if they think you can't pull your own weight. _

"No…ok…I'll help."

Daryl didn't look like he particularly cared either way, but he pointed for me to carry the back end of the deer. "I'll take this side," he said, gesturing to the wound. I was grateful for that.

Together we lifted the deer. How he was going to do it without me I had no idea, this thing weighed a ton! We walked slowly back in the direction of the house.

Neither of us spoke for several minutes, before Daryl asked. "How's your friend?"

"She's fine, I think. Still asleep."

He nodded.

"Have you been with this group long?" I asked, trying to keep my mind off my aching arms.

"Yeah."

_Ok, maybe a more specific question. _

"Where were you when it all started?"

"With my brother."

_Wow this guy is even less of a conversationalist than I am. _

"Is he here too?" I pressed.

"No."

"Oh."

_Perhaps silence is better. _

"He ain't dead," Daryl continued. "I just don't know where he is."

"Oh."

_Jeez Kate, you're beginning to sound like a stuck record. _

"I'm sure he's fine." I didn't exactly sound reassuring.

"I know."

We continued on in silence, before Daryl stopped in his tracks. He motioned for us to put the deer down, which I did happily. At first I wasn't sure what the problem was, then I heard it too. A faint rustling. It didn't sound like the wind though, it was definitely footsteps.

"Maybe another deer?" I asked aloud, but Daryl shook his head, disappearing into the trees. I had a choice, I could follow him, or I could wait.

_Why would you follow him? Stay here where it's safe._

_And you're alone…_

_With no one around…_

Suddenly waiting by myself didn't seem so appealing, and I hurried after Daryl. He'd disappeared from sight though, and now I had managed to get myself turned around.

_Don't panic. I still have my crowbar. _

I rolled my eyes at myself. I was hardly lethal with that thing.

CRACK.

I spun round at the sound of a snapping branch behind me, and found myself face to face with a Walker. It was a man, probably in his sixties when he died. He had blood around his mouth and chin, and I realised that half of his bottom lip had been torn off. His yellow teeth were bared, and he moved towards me. I backed up, raising the crowbar.

And fell backwards over a tree root.

The Walker came down on top of me, and it was all I could do to hold him at arm's length as he gnashed his teeth dangerously close to my face. Then, all of a sudden, he stopped fighting and fell like a deadweight to the right. I scrambled to my feet. He had an arrow in the back of his head. I looked up, Daryl was a few feet away, his crossbow raised. He lowered it, nodded at me, and then walked away.

_God, I suck._

* * *

I followed Daryl back to the deer, and helped him carry it towards the house, not caring anymore that the blood from the animal was all over my hands.

This was so humiliating, how could I ever hope to survive in this new world? I seemed to be constantly having to rely on other people to help me. What would happen if I was alone again?

I must've sighed aloud, or made some kind of sound, because Daryl turned his head to look at me for a moment. "What's wrong?" He asked.

I shrugged.

"Ok," he replied, turning away and carrying on.

_Wow, he's actually just going to accept that. _

"I can't do anything!" I blurted out. Daryl didn't turn around, didn't stop walking, but I took that as a sign to continue.

"I can't fight those things, I can't set traps for food, and I'm not even that good at running. I mean…I literally bring nothing to the table here!"

"So?"

His question caught me off-guard, and I was momentarily blind sighted by how rude he was. "What do you mean, _so_?"

Daryl shrugged, still not turning round. "I mean, so what?"

Well that rubbed me the wrong way. "So….well….I'm so sorry my problems are boring you. I was just a little worried about how I was going to survive now that the Dead are coming back to life. But you're right, what was I thinking?! We'll just carry on walking in silence while I keep my problems to myself and probably end up dead in a few days."

_Ok, that may have been a bit much. _I had always been a little too quick to jump on the sarcasm train.

Daryl stopped, and turned to face me, still keeping hold of the deer. "I mean, so what does it matter if you can't fight with that thing?" He nodded at the crowbar tucked through my belt. "It's too heavy. So what you can't catch food, you'll learn if you get hungry enough. And so what you can't run? You only gotta be faster than the person you're runnin' with." He grinned at that last one, and I bit my lip to supress the smile playing on my lips.

I sighed, "I just want to be useful."

Daryl turned back around and we continued walking. "So think about something you're good at, not all the stuff you're bad at."

I scanned my memories for some talent, long forgotten. "Uh…I'm a good swimmer…."

"Not a lot of water around here, keep thinking."

"I can spin a basketball on my finger."

"We're not really looking for that."

"Good, I can't really do it anyway."

I thought I heard a little laugh then, but Daryl continued walking without saying anything, so probably not.

I was thinking of my childhood now, long forgotten memories of summers with my friends. "I'm great at climbing! My friends and I used to climb to the top of all these trees in the woods. And I used to climb up the piping to get in and out of my bedroom window sometimes."

"That could be useful…I guess."

But now I was on a roll. "I used to be great with a bow! Archery competitions, I won loads when I was like twelve."

Daryl stopped again, "Like a bow and arrow?"

I realised how weak that sounded. How many Walkers was I likely to get with an old fashioned bow and arrow? It'd have nothing on Daryl's crossbow, or a gun for that matter. And where would I even find one?

"Yeah, forget it, it's dumb."

We were almost at the house now, and I could see someone running to meet us. It was Carol. She looked worried. Daryl and I put down the deer, and I jogged to meet her.

"It's Michonne," Carol said before I could ask.


End file.
